Mask of the Mngwa
by Dogs Bower
Summary: The Saturdays must help save Doyle, who has fallen victim to an ancient curse. But the item they seek as the means for a cure is in the hands of one of the deadliest men on earth. Will Doyle make it through before his nine lives are up?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - The Secret Saturdays belong to the rightful owners and not myself. If you don't like this story, then by all means do not read it and move along to something else. This fanfic will eventually contain some mature elements. Kudos to random friends and random things providing me with inspiration to try and write this. :)

**Mask of the Mngwa**

Chapter 1: Caged Curse**  
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Zak Saturday and his tall gorilla-cat brother walked down the hallway of the Saturday compound. Both wore uneasy looks, Fiskerton especially.

"Whuzrrruh?" Fiskerton asked with a tilt of his furry head.

"No way, Fisk. We're not supposed to let Doyle out no matter what. You heard mom and dad!" Zak said. "Besides, it's for his own good."

"Whugruh." Fiskerton made a few random grunts and stared at the tray in his large hands. He gestured to Zak with it. "Urufuah?"

"That's different. There's a slot in the door we can pass the food to him through. But we can't open the door, so don't even try it!"

Fiskerton nodded and he and Zak continued on down the shadowy hall and toward a rarely used but very practical part of the headquarters: a prison ward.

Not very large of course, but adequate in case of emergencies should the compound and its residents become victims of attack or in immediate danger of threats from within. Right now it's single occupant was going to be one of the most dangerous and unpredictable threats they'd encountered since Argost.

Fiskerton stopped short of the end of the hall leading to the first jail cell. His large arms began to shake, a nervous expression on his face. He turned to Zak, eyes wide and pleading. "Ruuuzarah!"

Zak looked over and patted his brother's huge furry arm. "It's okay, Fisk! You don't have to be so scared. I'm here. And if anything happens, we can just send an S.O.S out to one of the other Secret Scientists."

He held out his Claw in front of him and took a step forward. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and gave the large iron door a knock with the Claw.

"Doyle?"

Fiskerton inched backward fearfully, the tray starting to wobble in his grasp. The gorilla-cat made soft whimpering sounds as the now captive Doyle began to stir from within the dark cell.

"Z-Zak?"

A shadowy figure appeared, looking out from between the small slot with bars in the door. Two eyes stared back at Zak from within the darkness, but they were not anything like what had once been Doyle's usual eye color.

"Doyle," Zak muttered low and full of a disturbed sense of awe. "Your eyes. It's changed you again."

From within the cell, Doyle's face appeared more fully in the light shining from the hall. His eyes had been turned a distinct and bright yellow. Part of his red mohawk dangled in his face, uncombed and tousled. The tips were graying slightly.

"I don't think it's gonna stop until that relic gets recovered, Mini-man," Doyle said, his voice low and rough. Not at all his usual, and greatly accentuated with weariness. Doyle placed his hand on one of the bars, gripping it gently. Small but sharp claws could be seen replacing what had once been his fingernails.

"Don't worry, we'll get it back," Zak said firmly. "We'll fix this curse thing, okay? In the mean time, here." He motioned to the tray in Fiskerton's hands. "Made you some dinner."

Fiskerton hesitated but came forward when Zak gestured for him. He held the tray up and then went to push it through the slot at the bottom of the door. Doyle pulled it through.

"Hey, thanks. I was getting kinda hungry here." The sound of rattling came from within the cell as Doyle looked it over and picked up the contents. "Hey, wait. Is this tuna fish?"

Zak and Fiskerton looked at each other then back to the door.

"Um, yeah?" Zak answered.

Doyle groaned. "Really, you guys?"

"Wrushugana?" Fiskerton muttered to Zak, hands gesturing toward the door.

"I think it's more of a pride thing with Doyle. Guess tuna fish for a guy turning into a cat wasn't the best choice of meal," responded Zak into Fisk's ear, whispering.

"Uuurh." Fiskerton seemed to understand somewhat. He looked back toward the door again and then to Zak. "Grufuwa ruzaw," he said with a large shrug.

"Sorry, Doyle," Zak apologized. "Guess we should have gone with peanut butter?"

"Well at least you didn't throw in those cheesy goldfish crackers."

"True," said Zak, patting his Claw in his hand. "Point for us!" he declared to Fiskerton. "Hey, if you don't want the sandwiches, Fisk said he'd take them."

"Thanks but no thanks. I'll deal with it!" Doyle's voice was already muffled by the food and his chewing.

"Okay. Doyle? Hang in there. We're going back to keep tabs on the monitors," said Zak and he turned and started going back down the hall.

Fiskerton followed him quickly.

"You're going to watch reruns of Weird World, aren't you?"

Zak froze in his tracks and slowly turned his head. "No! I am not. As a matter of fact, there's this really interesting documentary on the history of Egypt that's coming on," Zak said, crossing his arms.

"Riiight."

"Ugh! Why does nobody ever believe me?"

Fiskerton poked Zak on the arm. "Fruzgurruh!" He stared at Zak, looking annoyed.

"What, he doesn't need to know that's exactly what I'm going to do!" whispered Zak angrily. "Come on, Fisk! It's been two years since the whole 'Argost trying to destroy the world' incident. People don't even care anymore, so why should we? I know Argost was a psychotic creep, but it used to be good tv, and it still holds up after all these years."

Fiskerton crossed his arms and kept staring at Zak. Zak stared back defiantly until he sighed and waved his hand at Zak. Do what you want, that seemed to say.

"Wuzzuhwar."

"I will, thank you very much," said Zak and he started to run down the hall with Fisk behind him. "Now I've probably missed the first two minutes of the first episode in the marathon!"

Zak and Fisk ran to the monitor room where Zak jumped into the chair and grabbed the remote to turn on the main set of tvs. The episode of Weird World flashed onto the screen with Argost's familiar but forgotten voice filling the room with its haunting sinister tone.

"And now I have something very special to show to you, faithful Weird World watchers. Come this way!" Argost teased with a clawed finger at the screen and the camera followed him down a crimson hall and to his chamber of prized ancient relics.

"Dang, I knew it! One minute and fifteen seconds. Good thing we've got TVid," Zak complained and was about to go and grab himself a drink when he noticed something on the corner of the screen.

Lost episode.

Zak stared at the giant screen and realized he'd never seen the episode before himself, and he'd watched all 59 episodes of Weird world enough times to recall each episode by heart.

"Lost episode? No way! How could there be one episode that was never shown for all those years?" Zak almost leaned too far in his seat and fell off. He grabbed the chair for leverage and kept his eyes on the screen as Argost gestured and gave more sinister cackles while he showed off his collection of ancient treasures. Everything was unfamiliar, nothing he recalled seeing before. "But it really is a lost episode. I've never seen this one before!"

"Fruggah," said Fiskerton, staring at the screen as curiously as Zak. Then he gasped and pointed. Argost had whipped a curtain away to reveal a wall with several glass cases holding items inside them. Argost referred to one in particular by name, a dark gray stone mask in the shape of a large cat, with exotic gold gemstones for eyes set into it.

It was called the Mask of the Mngwa.

"The mask?" Zak yelled and stood up in the chair. "That's the mask of the Mngwa!"

"Mwarruwah!" shouted Fiskerton with a nervous excitement.

They contained themselves and quieted down to hear Argost talking again. He revealed it was not the true mask but a replica, and Zak and Fisk let out their breaths of suspense.

"I don't know if I should be happy or disappointed about that," said Zak. "I would think it would have been easier to track down if it was sold in whatever auction to some old antiques collector. We still don't know for sure where the real one is. But now we know what it looks like."

"Ruzzah wurh hurrabwah," said Fisk, motioning with his hands.

"I know mom and dad went to look for clues, Fisk. But that's not going to stop Doyle from changing. You saw him already!" Zak motioned with his hands back toward the direction of the prison ward. "How much longer do you think it'll be before he turns all the way into a man-Mngwa? Then instead of an awesome sarcastic uncle Doyle, we'll have a crazy man-eating Mngwa-Doyle to deal with."

Fiskerton shook his head and looked worried. He gave a soft whimper and covered his eyes.

Zak sighed and patted his arm. "Sorry, Fisk. I didn't mean to scare you. I just hate that we can't do anything to help him without that stupid mask." Zak looked at the tv. "And the only person who really should have had it didn't. I told you Argost wasn't a very good scientist. Turns out he's not much of a relic hunter either. He only ever got all the easy ones and most of those were by letting other people do all the hard work for him."

"Mruugh." Fiskerton nodded his shaggy head.

"Yeah, I guess he couldn't find anybody that could get his dirty work done for him with that one. And Van Rook isn't around anymore to help us out now, either," Zak said and looked down at the floor pensively. Fiskerton developed a saddened expression.

"All this over a stupid cursed statue," muttered Zak. He looked back to the tv and watched Argost raising his cloak and giving a laugh before the show went to a commercial. "Why did Doyle have to take that job? He's so reckless."

Fiskerton stared at his brother. Zak turned away and his cheeks became a little red.

"Okay, yeah that was hypocritical, I know!"

A communication line suddenly beeped and an alert message flashed over the tv screen.

"Whoa, phone call!" Zak gasped and grabbed for the remote to change the channel before his mother came onto the other monitors.

"Zak? Zak, honey, are you there? The video feed isn't working right now on my end," his mother's voice came over the line, full of static interference.

"Yeah mom, I'm here. What's up?"

"Well, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that your father and I might have found out what that key to lifting Doyle's curse looks like."

"Hold that thought, mom. Does it look like this?" Zak quickly sent over a freeze framed capture from the tv of the replica mask on Argost's trophy wall.

"That's the mask. Zak, how did you-Where did this picture come from?" his mother's voice questioned, growing in a rapidly more suspicious tone.

Zak laughed nervously. "A documentary on rare antiques from around the world?"

"Riiight."

Zak pouted, his shoulders slumped. "Okay, I know, we'll talk about it later, you don't even have to say it. Anyway. What's the bad news?"

"The bad news is, we know exactly where to find it."

"What?" Zak exclaimed in confusion. "How is that the bad news?"

"You didn't let me finish," continued his mother, "This is the bad news. The man who is in possession of the mask."

The e-mailed picture came up on another monitor for Zak to see.

"Gabriel Cuvier."

The man in the picture was striking. He had thin features, but sharp and very handsome. His head was full of short, raven black hair with odd streaks of gray through the sides, though he didn't seem to be much older than his mid thirties. A thin mustache graced his lips. In the photo, they were pulled into a tight line but with a hint of a smile. A hard expression to determine all the way, but he looked incredibly serene. He looked somewhat eccentric but harmless. Though something about him was very unsettling. Very foreboding and frighting. His eyes set off the feeling. They were a steely gray and so cold. They gazed straight ahead, almost seeming to stare right out from the photo and into anyone looking at it. Zak was briefly reminded of the time he saw Ghostbusters II and they showed the painting of Vigo the Carpathian. The eyes were the same, even if the guy looked like he could be an incredibly nice person at first glance.

Fiskerton was the first to tremble and release a soft whine.

"Relax, Fisk. It's just a photograph," said Zak calmly, though his nerves were beginning to jump around just the same. "Gabriel Cuvier? Kinda creepy looking guy but he doesn't seem too bad. So who is he? Some rare antique collector who won't part with his collector's items unless you pay him an arm and a leg?"

"No, Zak. He's a professional killer. An assassin."

Fiskerton gasped. Zak's mouth hung open slightly.

"K-killer? Professional? That guy?" Zak stammered as Fiskerton ducked behind the chair and whimpered louder, placing his furry arms over his head.

"Yes. One of the top members of the assassin underworld in all of France, according to our source," said Drew through more static. "People like this you can't just walk up to and ask to give up the things they've gotten their hands on somehow."

"Why does he even have the mask? What would an assassin want with one piece of an ancient cryptid curse?"

"I don't know, Zak. But that's what we're going to find out."

"But mom, how are we-"

"No, Zak. Not you! Your father and I will take care of this."

"But mom!"

"No buts, Zak! Besides the fact that this is a professional assassin, a cold and calculating individual need I remind you, Zak, that's someone who wouldn't wait around for you to finish a joke before attacking you. Besides that, you need to stay at the HQ to keep an eye on Doyle." The line cut out for a moment, then came back. "Zak?"

"Yes, I'm here," Zak muttered to the monitors, and put his head in his hand, leaning on the table. He frowned.

"It's bad enough we had to leave you boys and Zon all alone there with Doyle in that condition. Which is why Dr. Cheechoo will be coming over shortly to help out until we can get back."

"Aw, mom!" Zak whined. "I'm fifteen years old, when are you and dad ever going to let me take care of things for myself?"

"Zak, fifteen years old doesn't make you a grown man. Wait until you're eighteen to start trying to convince me to let you take on things by yourself."

"Ugh!" Zak groaned. There was no arguing with her. "Okay. At least you didn't send somebody who'd be a major buzzkill," he muttered away from the line. "Hear that, Fisk? Dr. Cheechoo is coming over. So don't worry about anything, okay buddy?"

Fiskerton shook his head reluctantly, still refusing to accept that things would be okay.

Zak sighed.

"You and your brothers keep out of trouble, and don't go messing with Doyle, okay? Check on him but don't you dare try to open that cell door."

"Yeah mom, I know," said Zak.

"I have to go, Zak. There's a storm coming and the wind has already put a dent in the connections here. Your father and I will be back when we get more info on Cuvier and how exactly he came across this mask. I'll talk to you later, sweetie."

"Yeah mom. Later!" The line disconnected and Zak let out another sigh. He walked back to chair and plopped down into it. "Well, this is turning out to be a big mess already," he muttered to himself.

Zak looked up at the photo, still flickering away on the large monitor sets connected to the computer. Gabriel Cuvier stared back at him with the mysterious little smile. It almost was friendly, like it was beckoning him closer. But now Zak knew for certain, that look was just to fool people. He would probably slip a knife into their necks once they got close enough.

"Curse bringing cryptid statues, curse lifting masks and now French assassins. What next?" Zak wondered. He took the remote and turned the tv back on to show Argost's lost episode. "Hmm. Maybe I can dig up some more useful information thanks to the magic of television!" He smiled.

Komodo hissed from beside the arm of the chair, dropping an empty food bowl onto the floor.

"Interruptions, interruptions," grumbled Zak, and paused the tv again. "Really glad we've got TVid."

He got up to go find Komodo something to devour before he decided to eat the remote and anything else that could fit into his jaws.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mask of the Mngwa**

Chapter 2: Light through the Storm**  
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The wind picked up stronger, bending the palm trees along the coastline. Two figures in orange rain suits headed inland from the large boat that had just docked.

"Are the boys okay?"

"Yes, they're fine so far. But Zak's been watching Weird World again."

"That's still on?"

The two entered the sprawling resort building in front of them and pulled down their hoods.

"Zak used it to get a picture of the mask. I'm guessing it's a replica since our source didn't mention it ever being in Argost's hands before it hit Cuvier's. Not like it would with him any longer since all of Weird World's stolen relics got sold into auction when it was closed down for good," said Drew, shaking out her wet hair.

Doc's expression turned stern. "Is it wrong that I almost wish it had been in Argost's hands? At least we knew how to deal with that madman. This one we know nothing about, except where he's residing."

"That's why we're going to get more information. As much as we can. We're not going in there blind, Doc. We can't afford that," said Drew.

They looked toward the windows of the building as the rain began to come down. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed through the clouds out at sea. The waves churned.

"I know, Drew." Doc placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, feeling her shaking a little bit and not from the cold and rain outside. "Keep calm."

"Doc, my brother is turning into a man-eating cryptid," said Drew, looking into his eyes.

"I'm very aware of that," Doc said softly to her.

"And our boys are back home having to watch him like a hawk while we go out hunting down a man who turned out to be a professional assassin instead of just some collector. Doc, why would a top assassin have an ancient African mask? There's got to be something else behind this mess," said Drew.

"We'll find out exactly what's going on," assured Doc. "It's just going to take a little time."

"Doc. I'm not sure how much time we have," said Drew.

"Saturdays!"

The two turned and walked toward the man in a brown suit approaching them.

"Hello, Peter," said Doc. "Any new information on the mask and this Mngwa curse?"

"It's a very rare item, and not much can be found relating to it outside of African legend, but yes. I think you'll find this useful," said Peter and handed them a briefcase full of papers.

Drew opened it and looked through some. "This is perfect! Thank you, Peter."

"You're most welcome. Anything I can do to help out good friends," Peter said and nodded toward them.

Doc and Drew went to a close table and Drew took some of them papers out and spread them. They were several maps and photographs showing the mask, the cursed statue, and circling routes that the items had traveled to.

"The statue," Drew noted, placing her hand upon the photo.

"The first ever documented appearance of it was in 1944, where it was found in a African village by an English explorer, Reginald Stromm. The natives had abandoned the village and warned that any who touched the statue would be judged by it," said Peter.

"Cursed?" suggested Doc.

Peter shook his head undecidedly and shrugged. "There's been no real record of any incidents like the one you described your brother falling under, but there had been reports of several people who had been in possession of the statue vanishing without a trace."

"Foul play, I wonder," muttered Doc.

"And this was before Cuvier got a hold of the statue," said Drew, staring down at the pictures. She shook her head. "It has to tie together somehow. Maybe he's got family that were involved with it."

"Cuvier has no recorded family what so ever, I'm afraid," said Peter. "No records of even his mother or father."

"I suppose he might have erased his past once he got into the assassin business," said Doc with a hand to his chin, rubbing. "After all, when your job is murdering people for a living, you don't want anyone being able to track down your past."

"Sounds like someone else we used to know," said Drew. "It makes me all the more suspicious of this Cuvier guy."

"You're not the only one, Drew." He looked at Peter. "Peter, I know this is going to sound weird but, do you have TVid in the rooms here?"

"Why yes, we do. Is there something on you're missing?" he joked.

Drew looked at Doc, stunned. Doc smiled.

"Hey, if Zak can do it, why not us?"

The trio moved to an unused room where Doc went through the list of programs that had been playing and selected the Weird World marathon. After browsing through about eighteen episode summaries, they finally came to the Hidden Beasts of Africa episode. Doc played it and they watched.

"I've never seen this episode before," said Peter. He received a scornful look from Drew and smiled innocently. "It was pretty good tv, at one time. Before Argost tried to destroy the world, I mean."

"Hmph. So the network decides to grab some fast ratings by showing a previously never released episode of Weird World, and it happens to involve the Mngwa," muttered Doc.

"But does it mention anything about the cursed statue or mask," said Drew.

"Guess we'll find out," said Doc, and the three watched the tv for clues while fast-forwarding through Argosts long-winded and overdramatic speeches on the relics and beasts before the Mngwa.

"Ugh, he never stops talking, even in death he's still pestering us," said Drew, looking angry. "Get to the point, you creep."

As if to respond, Argost turned to the camera and gave a cackle with his cape in front of his face like a vampire.

"And now, boys and girls, that special treat I said I had in store for you all. Our last beast relic is a rare one indeed."

He held up the mask of the Mngwa.

"This mask, you see. It holds a deadly secret, one few men have dared brave and even fewer have survived to find out. But I, your gracious host, V. V. Argost and my loyal assistant Munya, have journeyed long and hard to bring this treasure back into the light of day."

"What a liar," grumbled Drew. "I wonder how many of his other 'prized treasures he worked so hard to recover' were fakes."

"But this mask, this is not the treat I have for you, dear children. No, I have something even better!" Argost declared and walked over to a large set of stairs going up to a platform. There was a huge black curtain in front of it. "Why show you a mere rare mask of legend from Africa, when I have obtained the very creature its visage bears resemblance of!"

The trio watching the tv gasped in astonishment as Munya pulled back the curtain and revealed a living, breathing Mngwa chained in place to the floor with thick iron collars and shackles. It let out a fierce roar, like none they'd ever heard before.

"My God, Drew! A Mgnwa. A real living Mngwa," said Doc, eyes wide as he stared at the tv screen.

"I don't believe it," gasped Drew. "And it's so beautiful."

The beast was about the size of a donkey, with granite gray fur and black stripes running along its legs, back and tail. The eyes were a stunning sharp yellow-green.

"I can't believe Argost got his hands on that poor creature!" Drew balled her fist.

"We don't even know when this episode was recorded," said Doc sadly. "It could be long gone by now."

"It probably is, knowing that monster," Drew growled.

"Let's concentrate on getting more info out of this," said Doc.

"Yes, my faithful watchers, right here and right now, feast your eyes on one of the rarest creatures in all the world!"

Argost passed in front of the Mngwa, holding the mask and letting the camera zoom in close as he placed the mask in front of the Mngwa's face in the background, comparing the two's likenesses. They were an uncanny match.

"This gorgeous creature, though it looks much like an over-sized tabby, don't let it fool you. They're the most vicious and skilled predators of the 'unknown' animal kingdom. You might say, they are the most feared and shadowy members of the cryptid underworld."

The Mngwa hissed and roared again, snapping and struggling against its restraints as Argost walked in front of it in an almost taunting manner. Knowing him, it probably had been.

"The story of how I was able to capture this beast is a long and harrowing one, children. But I'll take the last few minutes of the episode to explain to you just how-"

There was a sudden crash in the distance and an alarm sounded. Munya ran off screen, looking ready to brawl with whatever intruder was approaching. Argost's yellow eyes darted back and forth suspiciously, then settled back on the camera.

"Well now, dear children, this is most unexpected! We seem to have an unwanted guest in Weird World. There's always someone who wants to spoil the fun, isn't there? Especially when there's a thrilling story to be told," he said and shrugged deeply, but smiled through his mask and waved a finger at the camera. "Now, now. Don't be upset that you won't get to hear my story right now. Patience is a virtue."

He left the screen and the camera zoomed in on the Mngwa. Then the lights went out.

When the video returned, the camera was on its side and facing the wall. A pair of black boots came into view and the camera raised up to the correct position, focusing then on Argost's grisly masked visage. He appeared disheveled and upon closer inspection, had a generous amount of blood soaking down his cloak, coming from his arm and chest.

"Well, children. It seems we had a thief who came and stole away my rare new cryptid pet," Argost panted into the camera, leaning it toward the empty shackles and chains. "This just goes to show you, that some people will do anything to get their hands on a rare item. But I assure you, the perpetrators will pay dearly for thieving from the likes of V. V. Argost!"

"I guess that's why this episode was too hot to air back then," said Peter, looking at the visible wounds on Argost though it seemed he was trying to hide them from the camera.

"I'll say. Wonder who did that to him. Besides the Mngwa," said Doc.

"Serves him right," said Drew.

Argost babbled something else then signed off and the episode went to credits.

"Nothing about the statue, or anything useful on the mask. But he had a live Mngwa," said Doc. "That's something."

"Yes, but I'd like to know who came in and freed it," said Drew.

"Someone could have stolen it, Drew. We can't just jump to conclusions," Doc said, shaking his head. "Maybe one of Argost's cryptid hunting rivals. That Baron Finster, maybe. Someone else dealing in rare cryptids."

Drew picked up one of the photographs and looked it over. She looked at Doc. "You really think Baron Finster or his goons would have been able to get past Weird World security, Doc?"

"Well. Not really," admitted Doc. "But there's a good chance-"

Drew interrupted him. "Doc, who do we know who used to specialize in hunting down and freeing rare endangered cryptids from off the black market?"

Doc thought it over and then came to the same shocking realization Drew must have already.

"Doyle," he muttered. "You think him being asked to recover the statue had something to do with this Mngwa incident at Weird World?"

"Call it a hunch," Drew said.

"Let's look through the rest of these images," said Doc. "Put together clues. Find out who had the statue and the mask, and what they were doing with them."

"Right," said Drew.

"You guys done watching this?" asked Peter as the intro to a new Weird World came on.

"Yes," Drew and Doc answered at the same time.

"That kind of tv will rot your brain," said Drew.

"Well then, I hope you don't mind me turning to the weather. It's supposed to be bad for traveling for the next couple of hours," Peter said.

"Bad weather or not, Peter, we've got scoop up as much info on this Cuvier fellow and make it to France before my brother ends up on all fours and in a cage for the rest of his life," said Drew. She sighed. "Seeing that Mngwa in chains just made me sick inside."

"Why don't you check the criminal database? You guys have direct access to that, don't you, being Secret Scientists and all," suggested Peter.

"We did. There's nothing about him in there aside from his name being mentioned once or twice in the listings of S-class assassins and major dangers to the public and one account of his whereabouts in Paris, France. He must have been very thorough in keeping himself out of trouble," said Doc. "Nothing on his motives, nothing on his clientèle, and definitely nothing on his choice of weapons or attack."

"I see. So if you just went there and tried looking for him," Peter began.

"We'd most likely never come back," finished Drew.

"Just like the first time we went into Weird World," said Doc, a grim expression on his face as he recalled the memory forever stuck inside his mind.

Drew shook her head. "Can we please stop discussing Weird World. I really don't want to remember any of that if I can help it."

"Sorry."

"So you think your brother Doyle had something to do with that stolen Mngwa creature?" asked Peter.

"I don't know for sure, but knowing Doyle, I'd think it's a big possibility. And that would mean whoever asked him to recover the Mngwa statue could have been setting him up for a trap," said Drew.

Peter nodded.

"So we need to find out who did it and if it leads back to Argost, or maybe even Cuvier," said Drew. She pulled out her arm communicator and pressed some buttons. "And now if you'll excuse me, I've got to try calling Zak."

"Drew, it's only been about fifteen minutes," said Doc.

Drew gave him a look. "Fifteen minutes is good enough to check up on him." Doc withdrew any further comments.

Peter leaned over to Doc. "I wouldn't argue with her, Doc."

"You think I would have learned that by now," said Doc.

Suddenly his wrist communicator went on and he pressed the button to show the holographic phone message. It was Dr. Cheechoo.

"Hey Doc. I'm almost at the headquarters. Anything I should be watching out for in advance?"

"Yes. If anything is broken or on fire when you get there, go straight to the level C garage. I told Zak and Fiskerton to get in the safety room down there and stay put until help arrived. And he damn well better have done it."

"Will do. Um. Is Drew there?"

"She's on another line right now, trying to contact Zak."

"Is he okay?"

"He was, last time we checked."

Cheechoo's voice became a whisper. "So Doc. Drew's brother is mutating into a cryptid? How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure. Yet. But science can explain it somehow. A virus or bacteria on the statue, maybe."

"Or a supernatural curse?"

"Are you on Drew's side now, Paul?"

Cheechoo laughed. "Sorry, Doc. I just have a lot of heritage that brings up curses and folklore, all of which aren't really easily explained by sciences. Just wondered if this one was dipping into that territory."

"You'll find out what it's dipping into once you get in there and see him," said Doc.

"I guess so," said Cheechoo. "I'm coming up to the headquarters now."

"All right, Paul. Be careful. And-" A sudden burst of static cut into the line. "Interference again. Paul? Can you hear me? Paul?"

"Zak?" Drew's voice chimed in. She looked at Doc and he looked back at her.

"Damn," said Doc as the lines went too dead to hear anymore through.


	3. Chapter 3

I know some drama started up in my reviews and I tried to clear some of it up, but I don't want to pull reviews from any anon users I don't personally know who were speaking their mind, even if it was harsh. I'm sorry for the other people who can't stand this place because I do understand how you feel and I know it's hard to deal with it and deviantART.

_To The Writing Cryptid:_ Thank you, but you're probably going to be angry with me because I want to tell you something, and you will now represent the people to who I am speaking. You guys out there who fuss so much and get defensive about others picking on your Mary Sues and things all need to realize that not everyone is the same. Not everyone is young here, or enjoys seeing fan characters at all, or bad fanfiction that doesn't fit canon that well, or at all. Some people will get angry even at the little things like when they see people using improper grammar or chat speak. Some people are just like that with fanfiction and fanart. Some people do not care for it or what they consider to be insulting to their fandoms, like Mary Sues, poor fanfiction, and general drama caused by the crowds who go around "tearing the fandom to shreds" as one person I know put it. Not everyone can laugh at things like some do and ignore what they don't like.

Try to think of it from their point of view. Say you drew a picture and you really loved it with all your heart. Now imagine if a group of people came over and started drawing mustaches and pornographic things on your picture, throwing mud on it, grabbing it and throwing it down and stepping on it, and trying to tear pieces of it off or burn it with lighters. How would you feel? You wouldn't just sit there and smile while they did that, would you? No, you would probably stand up and get mad and yell at them to stop or feel depressed and cry. Right? Well, that's how it feels to some of us out there who see things going on in fandoms to the shows and characters they like or love. They see people doing bad things to them, things they don't enjoy, and they feel like somebody is taking their picture and messing with it or trying to outright destroy it.

And people really shouldn't expect not to get made fun of or picked on when they whip out these huge attitudes when people try to give them honest advice to try and be better. Most of us know not everyone is a great writer and some people write just for fun, but when they start getting mad when somebody comes up to them and says something very realistic and innocent like "hey your character is a Mary Sue" or "your story is pretty bad, you could fix it to be better." That tends to make them look very childish and whiny and when it makes people mad enough they will stop trying to help and just start insulting and mocking. And especially when somebody who writes poorly even though they think they're writing good and attacks everyone else by saying they know nothing and can't write or whatever it is, well yes, of course that person has already made themselves look horrible to others! They're just going to get flamed to hell and back because they've been acting like a high and mighty jerk.

My advice: Just because you think you're a good writer doesn't mean you are. Just because you know about canon more than others doesn't mean you get a free pass from criticism, especially when your character portrayals and stories are nothing at all like canon. You just sound increasingly ridiculous when you bash people for making fun of you for bashing people for not giving you enough attention.

Now these author's response notes are way too large, so I'll get back to the fanfic! :)

**Mask of the Mngwa**

Chapter 3: Break Out**  
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"Doc? You there, Doc?" Cheechoo listened and waited but the line was disconnected. Too much interference coming out of the storm on Doc's end. He lowered his cellphone and placed it back in his pocket and stepped out of the car.

Cheechoo hurried up the walkway to the towering, rebuilt Saturdays Headquarters. It looked mostly the same as it always had, but there had been a few new additions made to it. Nothing too special. He slowed as he came to the front walkway which lead up to the main entrance of the structure and looked around.

"Nothing broken or on fire from here," he said, checking around to make sure there wasn't any smashed glass in the windows above or any signs of smoke. He pushed a button on the large panel on the wall. "Zak. You there?"

Cheechoo waited, hoping the call would be answered and there wouldn't be signs of trouble. The speaker came on and there was some muffled voices and rustling, but then Zak came through and Cheechoo relaxed a little.

"Yeah, hey Dr. Cheechoo! I'm opening the door right now." More rattling and rustling on Zak's end came to Cheechoo's ears. "What? No, Fisk! I told you, it'll be fine. Now stop-"

That made Cheechoo a little worried again, but the door buzzed and unlocked. It slid open and he quickly went inside before it shut again and the security system went back into play. He walked down the familiar corridors until he reached the main room, where Zak was already jogging to meet him with Fiskerton striding behind in his usual large steps. The gorilla-cat looked very nervous, and Cheechoo noted it.

"Zak, how is everything?" he asked as he came up and placed a hand on Zak's shoulder.

"Fine. We're fine, really," assured Zak, panting a little before catching his breath again. "But I kinda lost contact with mom. I guess there's this big storm going on over there."

"Gurruwrah," said Fiskerton, shrugging his large shoulders and then looking saddened.

"Uh, nothing's broken or on fire, is it?" Cheechoo asked and looked around suddenly, worried.

Zak stared awkwardly. "Huh?"

Fiskerton grabbed his furry head and looked scared. "Uurah? Dursh uurah!"

"No, nothing's on fire, Fisk!" Zak turned and told him. He turned back to Cheechoo with an awkward smile. "Nothing's on fire, I swear. The situation is under control, really."

"Uh huh," Cheechoo responded, looking not too sure of that. "I heard a little about this whole ordeal from your mom and dad, but I can't say I really understand what's going on here. What exactly happened to Doyle?"

"It's a long story," said Zak, rubbing his hands in his hair. He looked down at the floor, seeming troubled.

"I'm sure I've got time," said Cheechoo.

Zak looked back up at him. "Yeah, I'm sure you do. Well, first maybe you want a drink or something?"

"Sure, that would be fine," said Cheechoo. He and Zak and Fisk walked to the kitchen area.

Komodo had a huge bone in his jaws, rolling around on the floor with it and snarling happily. He didn't pay the group any attention when they walked in. Zak had to step over him to get to the large refrigerator since he'd chosen to lay nearly in front of it. Zak pulled out three soda cans and stepped over Komodo again, dodging the huge lizard's tail as he walked, and he brought them to the table/holographic display and set them down in front of himself, Cheechoo, and Fisk.

"Thanks," said Cheechoo, taking the soda and opening it.

Fiskerton took his soda and did the same, taking a long chug of the contents and almost emptying the whole can in one gulp.

"So about Doyle. Boy, where do I begin?" Zak said, shaking his head before taking a drink of his own orange soda.

"Durubbah," suggested Fiskerton.

"I know, the beginning. But it's not that easy, Fisk," said Zak, slightly annoyed.

"Wurugurh," Fiskerton muttered, setting down his can, and he folded his furry arms.

"Well then you tell it!" said Zak, huffing.

"Furrh!" Fiskerton turned to Cheechoo and began gesturing wildly with his large hands. "Wururuh, urugah rashhurah! Wurrurugurah wuzuwarah, arrarah uuuruh!"

Cheechoo stared blankly and then tilted his head to one side. "This would probably be really interesting. If I could only understand it."

Fiskerton stared back, confused. He then grunted in disappointment and slapped a palm over his face.

"Sorry, Fisk. Most people can't speak or understand Fiskerton Phantomese," Zak said while chuckling smugly.

Fiskerton grumbled and sat down at a chair, putting his head in his palm. He gestured to Zak to say, go on.

Zak looked back at Cheechoo and inhaled a breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Unexpectedly, he pressed a button on one of the table's many side control panels and a holographic projection forwarded from the living room computers came up when Zak tapped a few more buttons with nimble fingers. The shimmering transparent screen flashed several images and Zak froze on one in particular. It was a statue of a cryptid cat, about a foot tall. It was cut from a smooth, gray stone, and didn't look all that spectacular. The eyes were fitted with small yellow-green jewels.

"It all started with this weird ancient African statue. A Mngwa statue. A cursed Mngwa statue," Zak said, pointing to it on the holographic screen and making the screen shimmer again. "Doyle got this seemingly legit business offer to recover it for a guy who never left a name and address. Well, he did, but it turned out to not be a real one. Anyway, Doyle ended up with a bum client, but he got the cash for the job."

"Odd," noted Cheechoo.

"Yeah. And Doyle, being, you know. Doyle. He was fine with it when he made sure the money was real. So he just kept the statue," said Zak. "But then, something weird happened."

Fiskerton gulped. Cheechoo waited intently while looking at Zak.

Zak looked like he was struggling with the right words before answering. "The statue bit him or something."

"Statue. Bit him?" Cheechoo looked confused. Fiskerton looked scared and placed his hands over his eyes.

Zak nodded and shrugged, shaking his head. "Well, that's kinda what Doyle said. And that's how he got cursed, I guess."

"But this curse only affected him, and nobody else?"

Zak nodded. "Yeah. I know, it's weird. I picked up that statue about twenty times, and I was around it for hours. So was Fisk. Heck, so was mom and dad! None of us started getting gray around the edges and started growing claws."

"I see," said Cheechoo, rubbing a finger on his chin. He set down his soda can. "That definitely sounds like some sort of selective curse."

"Suruguah whuah?" Fisk asked.

"A selective curse. One that only affects certain individuals. We tend to have a lot of them back home," Cheechoo informed, smiling.

"Know of any selective African curses?" asked Zak, looking hopeful.

"Unfortunately, no," said Cheechoo. "I'm not familiar with any. But I'm sure we could try digging up some info."

"True," said Zak. "We've already got a part of how breaking the curse works. We just don't know how." He pressed another button on the keypad and a new image came up. It was the mask from the Weird World episode. "This mask goes with the statue somehow."

"You guys just don't know how," said Cheechoo, looking at the picture. Zak and Fiskerton both shook their heads. "Um. How is Doyle, if I may ask?"

Zak inhaled and held his breath. Then he let it back out in a sigh. "In a word? Furry!"

Cheechoo raised his eyebrow. "I see."

Fiskerton waved his large hand suggestively. "Uruwhau rungah? Dabbhuuurhugurah."

"And. He's in the prison ward," said Zak, looking sullen. "Dad had to knock him out because he was getting kinda violent."

Cheechoo placed some fingers to the corner of his mouth. "I see," he said more softly, contemplative.

"But everything is okay. He's calmed down a lot now." Zak looked at Komodo on the floor, chewing. "Um. But he's still changing."

"Getting furrier?"

Fiskerton nodded his head rapidly. "Durrshaa." He waved his hands around his head and fluffed out his hair so that it was standing on end, like a big afro. "Whooshoowah!" He wiggled his fingers by his ears.

"And more aggressive," said Zak, worry crossing into his features.

"That's not good," said Cheechoo plainly.

"Nope," Zak agreed, having actually witnessed Doyle getting into the near brutal fight with his father that lead to him being caged. It had been disturbing.

"Maybe I should take a look at him?" suggested Cheechoo.

"It's not going to be pretty," said Zak. He finished his soda and put the empty can down. He took up his Claw. "Fisk? You coming with us?"

Fiskerton whimpered, but nodded.

The trio made their way through the hallway and toward the prison ward. Everything was fine until they heard a loud crash.

Fiskerton let out a little screech. Both Cheechoo and Zak froze in their tracks. Zak clutched the Claw to his chest.

"That is not good," he said sharply, eyes wide.

"Definitely not good," Cheechoo said, pulling out what looked like a small gun. "Zak, Fisk, on your toes."

"It came from the jail cells," Zak muttered, holding up the Claw.

Fiskerton let out a whimper of gibberish and soft yowling. His hands flew to his furry face and covered it with large hands, and he was shaking like a leaf.

"We've got to move. To the level C garage. Let's go quietly."

"Are you kidding? We've got to stop Doyle!" Zak protested. "If he gets out, who knows what'll happen! To him, to other people!"

"Zak!" Cheechoo whispered harshly, trying to put a hand on his shoulder. "Your dad was very specific!" Zak moved away, running down the hallway before he could grab him and stop him. "Zak!"

"Ruusha!" Fiskerton yowled, placing his hands on his head in horror.

Cheechoo looked at Fiskerton. "Somehow I think I should have known this would happen?" Fiskterton nodded with a distressed look. "I bet it was a nice safe room," he muttered, and then started running to aid Zak. "Fisk, if you can, get to that safe room! I'll try to get Zak!"

Fiskerton shrieked behind him and went running in the opposite direction, reluctantly heading toward the level C garage.

Cheechoo ran forward into the annoyingly darkened hallway, searching for Zak. He didn't want to call out in case Doyle was to be taken as a large potential threat than what he had assumed already. The sound of footsteps came to his ears. He paused and saw a shadow which turned out to be Zak. He lowered his weapon and breathed out with relief.

"Zak!" Cheechoo whispered forcefully.

Zak turned around and gave him a dirty look, pressing his finger to his lips. He pointed with the Claw. Cheechoo saw that down the hallway a few feet, there were a set of jail cells. The doorway of the first jail cell had been smashed right off its hinges. Whoever had done such a thing had been ridiculously strong. And he already knew the person who did it had been Doyle. They were dealing with a very large potential threat, yes.

Cheechoo came up behind Zak, close enough so that they could whisper and still hear each other. "Doyle did that?"

Zak nodded. "I don't think that little gun is going to stop him."

Cheechoo looked at his now useless seeming weapon. It really didn't. "It's a stun-gun," he whispered. Which made it even worse. What he wouldn't give for a tranquilizer gun or something right now. Maybe an army.

"Where's Fisk?"

"Hopefully making his way toward the safe room your dad told me to take both you and him to in the case of danger," Cheechoo whispered, a little angrier sounding. "Now I know how he feels when you don't bother to listen to reason, Zak! I'm responsible for the both of you right now, and you just ran us all into what could be huge danger!"

"You think this is huge danger? What about Doyle getting out into the open? You don't think that'll be huge danger?" Zak huffed. "We can't just let him escape! Or more people than just us'll be in danger. Come on, Cheechoo. Think of it like a zombie outbreak. So we're risking our own lives to contain the danger, to save the lives of others. You're going to get mad at me for that?"

"This isn't a zombie outbreak, Zak!"

"Well, what if Doyle infects somebody else? Who knows! He might! We don't know much about this weird curse yet!"

"Zak!"

"Paul! I can play the angrily whispering name games, too."

But before Zak could keep talking, Cheechoo pressed a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Then he pointed down the hall into the shadows. Something was crouched in the end of the hallway, hunched. It had to be Doyle. But he was acting so strangely, who knew what was going on.

Neither of them could see into the shadows, but they knew it had to be Doyle, and they knew something had to have gone terribly wrong with him, even more than had before. He had mutated enough to break out of his confines.

"Careful," Cheechoo whispered, removing his hand. Zak didn't say anything but he nodded.

Their nerves shook as the shadowy lump in the corner moved, standing up. It took the shape of a well built man. It was Doyle, but it also wasn't. He took a staggering step forward and came partially into the light, where both Zak and Cheechoo could see him. They held in their shock.

Doyle had mutated further. His hair, formerly red, was now almost fully gray. His clothes were rumpled, and there were odd markings on the exposed skin of his arms. His eyes had become even brighter, deep yellow with a faint hint of green to them. The pupils had become slit like those of a cat. They peered through the darkness, staring straight at Zak and Cheechoo. The claws on Doyle's fingertips had become much larger. His lip curled, revealing enlarged canine teeth. He sniffed the air suddenly, ignoring them though he could obviously see them. At the moment, they were no threat.

"The mask," Doyle muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was deeper and gravelly.

"Doyle?" Zak whispered fearfully. Cheechoo grabbed Zak's arm.

Doyle didn't look at them. "I know where the mask is!" he declared.

"Doyle!" Zak shouted, as Doyle turned and charged at them. Cheechoo gasped, preparing for the worst. He raised his gun even though it wouldn't do much to save them, and Zak was too stunned to put up his Claw in defense.

To their immediate and further shock, Doyle jumped before he got too close to them, and ending up jumping right over their heads. He landed easily in a crouch, raised up, and kept on running faster than any human should have been able to go, even for him.

"Doyle!" Zak shouted after him.

"I have to get the mask!" Doyle yelled from the distance, never turning back once.

"Doyle, no! Wait!" Zak continued to scream after him, trying to attempt reason.

"Don't follow me, Zak! Don't do it!"

Doyle's voice sounded so cold and firm, Zak stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding.

"Doyle," he said softly, his voice pained.

"We've got to get a hold of Doc and Drew again. They're not going to like this," said Cheechoo.

Zak and Cheechoo ran back toward the main part of the compound. Before they made it all the way, there was a huge sound of breaking glass. Alarms went on. They slowed down, realizing danger. Cheechoo almost tripped over Komodo who appeared from his invisible state, having hidden from Doyle as he passed through.

"Komodo!" Zak said, reaching down to pat the lizard's head. Komodo looked confused but he was unharmed.

When they reached the front windows, they found them smashed out. Doyle had jumped through them and straight to the ground.

"No way," Zak said in awe, staring down through the busted window. "He jumped that far? How much more powerful is he going to get?"

"Zak, be careful," Cheechoo warned. Beside the possibility of an accidental fall, there was broken glass shards littering the floor.

From outside, Zon screeched. She came flying in through the window, minding the pointed, threatening looking broken glass panes. Zak pet her mane reassuringly.

"Sorry, girl. I know we're having some family trouble here," Zak comforted. Zon trilled nervously. "Don't be scared. We'll get Doyle back, and under control. Somehow."

"I'm calling your mom and dad, Zak," said Cheechoo.

"Awww! You're not gonna tell them that I blew off dad's orders to go to the safe room, are you?"

"I should," said Cheechoo, annoyed," but I won't." He pressed his re-dial button and waited. When he held the cell to his ear and waited for a response, none could be received. He tried again, but still nothing. "Damn." The signal was being blocked on their end by the storm, now almost completely. He would have to just wait and see if he could reach them, or find another stronger line of communication.

"Come on, girl! Let's go track Doyle!"

"Huh?" Cheechoo turned around to see Doyle sitting on Zon, prepared to ride. Zon spread her leathery wings and started taking off toward the window. "Zak!" he yelled.

"I'm gonna see if I can find out where he's headed!" Zak shouted. Zon flew through the hole in the window and into the sky.

"Zak! I am going to tell your mom and dad about this, just so you know!" Cheechoo yelled at the top of his lungs out the window.


End file.
